


Competing Bid

by Fanforthefics (StormDancer)



Series: Hockey Tumblr Oneshots [32]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Players, Charity Date Auctions, Defining the Relationship, Multi, Or Attempts To Do So, Polyamory Negotiations, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/pseuds/Fanforthefics
Summary: Jordan is pretty sure this is some sort of torture.





	Competing Bid

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tumblr prompt: charity date auction. 
> 
> Not beta-ed, barely proofread. Enjoy!

Jordan is pretty sure this is some sort of torture. He’s not entirely sure, but he thinks it’s against some sort of law, to make him stand up here in front of cameras, a group of well-dressed New Yorkers that look frankly a little predatory, and his teammates, and God and everyone, or something, and have to stand there straight-faced and listen as people bid on him.

It should be Taylor up here, he thinks bitterly, as he watches Taylor giggling into Ryan’s shoulder at the back of the room. Ryan’s doing better at keeping a straight face, but not much; they both look irritatingly smug. Just because their jobs don’t involve this sort of promo and they can just be rich and quiet about it, or something. Jordan is definitely going to…do something about this, when he’s done here. 

The guy in front of him is auctioned off, to a middle-aged woman who’s looking at him in a way that makes Jordan equal parts sympathetic, a little jealous, and terrified. Most of the guys have gone to various degrees of older women looking to hang out with younger guys for a while and hockey-mad men and women who want to talk hockey for a whole meal. Jordan thinks he would rather the latter, but he’s not sure. 

The bidding starts low. Jordan thinks that would definitely be bad, to go too low–he wonders if he can telepathically get Taylor to start the bidding. He’s got enough money and nothing to do with it other than a job Jordan still doesn’t quite get, he can spare it. Given how Taylor’s still on the edge of hysterics, he doesn’t think so. 

Then–an older woman in a tight bright pink dress raises. She licks her lips at Jordan. Jordan is definitely nervous–and then a kid who looks about 20 raises, and his eager look is almost more worrisome. They go back and forth, and then another older woman goes in, and then a middle aged man who has that look that Jordan knows means he’s going to tell Jordan all the ways he should be playing better. Jordan manages to smile, and not fiddle with his collar. Taylor and Ryan are still laughing, completely unsympathetic. Dicks. See if he lets their next video game hangout segue into hooking up. 

“Sold!” The auctioneer calls, and Jordan almost jumps. Taylor gives up the ghost and just cracks up; Ryan slaps a hand over his mouth. Jordan gives them a Look that he hopes translates to all the shit he’s going to do to them, and then he looks to where the final bid went, and–

Well. It’s not a hockey-mad fan or a cougar. It’s a very pretty woman about Jordan’s age, in a dress that’s demure in the front and dips daringly low in the back in a way that’s just inviting a hand to trace down her spine, and a smile that’s friendly and open. It’s not even hard to smile back. 

“Hi,” she says, when he gets to her. He feels like he should bow or something, but he doesn’t. “I’m Samantha.” 

“Jordan,” Jordan says, and smiles. “Thanks. And the kids thank you too.” 

“Well, I was supposed to spend some money tonight, and you looked scared. I thought I’d save you.” 

“You did,” Jordan assures her. Her laugh is a little nasal, in a way that’s charming. 

It’s easy to talk to her, he finds, and he’s not even dreading their charity-mandated date that they’ll schedule around Jordan’s playing schedule. They chat until the event ends, and Jordan tells her good-bye with a smile. 

He’s barely out the door before he’s surrounded. “You talked for a long time,” Taylor announces. He’s not laughing anymore. 

“Yeah, because she paid for it,” Jordan points out. “Like, literally.” 

“She didn’t pay for tonight,” Ryan counters, just this edge of sharp. “Just your date. Later.” 

“I think tonight was implied.” Jordan rolls his eyes at them both. “I’m sorry you can’t laugh at me and how badly this turned out. I know you were hoping for more torture.” 

“We weren’t hoping for that,” Taylor counters. He throws an arm around Jordan’s shoulders, steers him towards where they’d parked on their carpool here. “I mean, I did have a bet on it.” 

“That why you didn’t bid on me?” Jordan asks. He’s not, like, offended neither of them did. Ryan and Taylor have some start up that he doesn’t quite get but that makes them a lot of money, but not enough to afford what everyone else was dropping. He thinks. To be honest, he’s not sure. But he didn’t expect a bid. Sure, the three of them hook up sometimes, but it’s not, like, anything. Just three attractive people enjoying the others. 

Taylor legitimately pouts. “Ryan said you’d be mad.” 

“Ryan said it wasn’t a legitimate business expense,” Ryan corrects patiently. He glances sideways at Jordan. “Also, I thought you didn’t want us to.” 

“I didn’t know it was an option,” Jordan tells them, honestly. They’re at Ryan’s car–a Tesla that definitely was not made to fit three men of their size but looks very start up. He waits for Ryan to unlock the door, then grabs the front seat before Taylor can call shotgun. “You could have.” 

“Told you!” Taylor crows at Ryan, and gets into the backseat with barely any complaining. “No one knows Ebs better than me.” 

Ryan’s lips twitch. “Fine, next time I’ll listen and we can blow our quarterly budget on a date with a hockey player that we can get for free.” 

“Hey,” Jordan feels the need to object here. “Playing video games is not a date. Date is–” his phone dings, and he checks it. Smiles. “A date is dinner at a restaurant, like Samantha and I are going on next week.” 

In the backseat, Taylor makes a sound. Ryan’s pulling out of the parking spot very carefully. “You like playing video games,” Taylor mutters. 

“I like kicking your ass at video games,” Jordan agrees, and Taylor sputters for a second before he starts arguing. Jordan grins. This night definitely didn’t turn out as badly as it could have. 

Ryan takes them back to his place, and the door’s barely closed before Jordan’s somehow sandwiched between the two of them, Ryan kissing him long and hot and intent as Taylor apparently makes it his mission to strip him right there, and the night only gets better from there. 

* * *

In the morning, Jordan wakes up first, like usual–he’s the only one of them not setting his own schedule. He disentangles himself–somehow Taylor always manages to take up the entire bed, including the space Ryan and Jordan take–and gets up. 

Jordan’s been over here enough that he digs out the spare toothbrush he’s claimed as his, steals some sweats and a t-shirt from Ryan’s closet. He needs to get to practice, but he’ll give them back. 

When he gets back into the bedroom, somehow they’ve shifted so that Taylor’s taking up even more room, but is still somehow lying mainly on top of Ryan. Jordan shakes his head. He’s not sure if they hook up when he’s not around; he doesn’t think he wants to know. It’s none of his business. He’s definitely never asked. Not when Taylor first introduced Ryan to Jordan, both of them all lit up and excited with their idea and how they were going to change the world and talking a mile a minute about things Jordan couldn’t understand; not the first time they all fell into bed together, something Jordan hadn’t been able to conceive of happening, even with his ill-advised crush on Hallsy back when they were kids together. It’s good like it is. Jordan’s not going to be the one to rock the boat. 

He doesn’t leave a note when he goes to practice; they’ll know where he’s gone. 

There is a text waiting for him when he’s done, on their chain, from Taylor–_You could have woken us up :( _

_And listened to you whine? _Jordan retorts. He barely has a minute at home to shower and pack before he has to get on a plane. He takes his teammates’ teasing about his walk of shame in good humor; he’s still in a good mood, from last night. 

They win one but drop the other two on the road trip, which sucks; they get back in the early evening and Jordan’s mainly looking forward to going home and crashing for as long as he possibly can. He probably doesn’t have any food in the house, he can order in. 

Except when he gets home, there are lights on in his apartment. He blinks. If someone broke in, he might just turn around and go to Taylor’s, or something. He does not have the energy for it. 

He opens the door slowly, but then relaxes as soon as he sees the two pairs of sneakers in the hall. He knows those shoes. 

“Hallsy? Nuge?” He calls, and gets two grunts from the kitchen. He wanders in; Ryan’s poking at something on the stovetop as Taylor sits at the island and clearly not helping. It’s adorably domestic. Jordan blinks. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We thought you’d be tired,” Ryan tells him, turning around with one of his somehow always surprisingly sweet smiles. 

Taylor bounds to his feet, wraps Jordan in a hug. He takes a second to inhale, to breathe in Taylor’s familiar scent. “Do you want to eat first, or do you want a nap?” he asks. His hand is resting on the small of Jordan’s back, big and warm. 

“I, um.” Jordan shakes his head. “Dinner, I think.” 

“Well it’ll be done in a few minutes,” Ryan tells him. He leans over to hug both Taylor and Jordan. Jordan considers being confused, but it’s also comfortable, so he goes with that for right now. “Go get changed.” 

“I don’t think I can,” Jordan points out, and Ryan laughs and pulls Taylor away. 

He gets changed. They eat around the island, Ryan and Taylor catching him up about what they did and the continuing misadventures of their employees and Jordan not talking about hockey even a little. When he’s done, Ryan whisks his plate away, and then he’s being herded down the hall to his bedroom, not that he really wants to resist. 

The sex that night is slower than usual, less hot and frantic and somehow decadent instead. Jordan drifts off to sleep surrounded by Ryan and Taylor, and he barely thinks about his bad hockey mood at all.

* * *

Jordan wakes up later than usual, but to an empty bed. It’s a little surprising, but not much; Taylor and Ryan’s schedule is about as unpredictable as his own. The only constant is the time they make for his home games. 

It’ll give him time to deal with all the errands he needs to do after a road trip, he justifies, quashing any sort of disappointment, and gets up. It’s only after he opens the door that he hears the noise in his kitchen, and wanders over. 

Both Taylor and Ryan are back in his kitchen. Neither of them are looking at Jordan, but that’s fine; it’s sort of nice to watch them like this, comfortable in Jordan’s kitchen. Ryan’s at the stove, and this time Taylor’s hovering around him, watching whatever he’s doing. 

“Is the coffee ready yet?” Taylor demands. 

“You could check it yourself,” Ryan retorts. Taylor doesn’t say anything, but Jordan knows what he looks like when he’s making a face at the speaker, and that’s what he looks like now. 

“There has to be coffee,” Taylor says. “Jordan likes coffee.” 

“I know that,” Ryan snaps. “I know him too.” 

Taylor makes a low sound, then he throws an arm around Ryan’s waist, tucks his head over Ryan’s shoulder so their cheeks are touching. “I know,” Taylor tells him. It’s an easy, physical gesture; Jordan makes himself not wonder if this is what they’re like, morning he’s not there, so easy and casual together. It’s none of his business. 

He steps back to go back to bed, or something, and then Ryan turns around. He smiles. “Hey, you’re up.” 

“What? No.” Taylor turns too, his arm still around Ryan. “No, you can’t be up yet, we’re bringing you breakfast in bed.” 

“Um.” Jordan’s…not sure what to do with that. “It’s not even, like, my birthday?” 

“We know.” Ryan’s still smiling at Jordan, wrapped up in Taylor’s arms, and Jordan can’t quite push away the want to go tuck himself in with them, too. He doesn’t, but he wants. 

“Yeah. Now go back to bed. We’ll bring you breakfast,” Taylor insists. He’s set his jaw stubbornly, like he always has. 

“Or I could hang out here with you guys and we can eat here together?” Jordan suggests. He doesn’t want to go back to bed alone. 

Ryan and Taylor look at each other, communicate something. They’ve gotten better at that, throughout the years; now they do it almost as well as Jordan and Taylor can. Jordan doesn’t mind, really. 

“Yeah, sure,” Ryan agrees. 

“But then after we’re all going back to bed,” Taylor announces, and Jordan and Ryan both laugh and don’t disagree. 

They eat breakfast, and it doesn’t escape Jordan’s notice that it’s all his favorites, and that they have sausage instead of bacon even though both Ryan and Taylor think, incorrectly, that bacon is better. Instead of going right back to bed, though, they hang around the living room for a while, playing video games, until somehow that transitions into slow, lazy makeouts on a couch not big enough for the three of them until Ryan and Taylor really do have to go to work and Jordan needs to get to the rink. 

Jordan would put it up to just a weird aberration, but things like that keep happening. Ryan insists on picking him up from the rink after practice the next day and buying them lunch. They both show up to the game wearing Jordan’s jersey and cheering ridiculously until Jordan’s getting chirped incessantly about his boyfriends. Flowers appear in Jordan’s house, which is really a recipe for disaster. Jordan even starts winning more at ‘chel, which is really where he gets suspicious because for all his bravado he knows he’s not better than them. 

Then it’s Friday, and Taylor and Ryan are lying on Jordan’s bed as Jordan gets ready for his date with Samantha. 

“You didn’t have to supervise this,” Jordan points out, picking out a tie. They’re going to some fancy place that she picked, but Ryan looked up reviews and said that the food was supposed to be great. But it does require Jordan to wear a tie. 

“Of course we do. Otherwise you’d wear that tie,” Taylor informs him. 

Jordan glares, but shoots the tie a worried glance. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“The grey one brings out your eyes more,” Taylor informs him. “Otherwise she might look at the rest of you instead and get turned off.” 

“Fuck off,” Jordan tells him, flipping him off. But he does switch ties. 

“I got this,” Ryan says, and rolls off the bed in one fluid motion to walk over to Jordan. He takes the tie, wraps it around Jordan’s neck, and starts to tie, all clever fingers and cheekbones as he looks down at the knot. Jordan swallows. They’re so close Jordan can feel it, and it’s so domestic, so easy. He finishes, then pats Jordan’s chest, his fingers lingering as he steps back. “There.” 

Jordan swallows. “How do I look?” he asks, spreading his arm. “Good enough for a fancy rich person’s date?” 

“She’s not just fancy, she’s hot too,” Taylor tells him. “So there’s that.” 

“Yeah, it’s a lot better than some of the other guys,” Jordan agrees. He’s heard a bit about some of the other ‘dates’ the guys have gone on, with varying degrees of uncomfortableness. “At least I’ll have fun.” 

Taylor and Ryan look at each other again, then at Jordan. There’s something in both of their looks–Ryan’s purposefully unreadable like he gets when he’s hiding emotions, Taylor’s sulky and stuck somewhere between sad and angry. 

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees. “Fun.” 

“Mm-hm,” Taylor echoes. He takes a step forward–and then Ryan’s hand is on his arm, like he’s holding him back. Taylor snorts out a breath, then relaxes back. Jordan watches, confused. “Have fun. If it goes south, we can always send an emergency text. I can totally fake your mom’s voice.“

“You haven’t done that since your voice broke,” Jordan points out, though Taylor’s imitation really did used to be spot on. 

“I still could,” Taylor informs him. Jordan looks at him skeptically. Taylor glares back. Jordan decides that this is a time to let it go, and does. 

“Okay, I’ll call if something goes wrong,” he assures them. They don’t look appeased. “Seriously. What do you think is going to happen, she’s going to kidnap me?” 

“You never know,” Taylor mutters. Ryan shakes his head. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, but his eyes are hot. “We know.” 

“Okay…” Jordan looks at them a beat longer, but neither of them say anything. “I’m going to go, then? Are you planning to wait here for me? Sit on my porch with a shotgun?” 

There’s a very worrisome pause, but then Taylor shakes his head. “No,” he says grudgingly. “We’re going too.” 

They trail Jordan to the entranceway, but thenTaylor hesitates in the doorway, looking down at Jordan, biting at his lip. 

Jordan knows what Taylor looks like, when he wants to say something but knows he shouldn’t. “What?” he asks. Taylor’s not supposed to have that expression with him. 

“I just–” Taylor swallows. “You know I love you, right?” 

“Yeah, of course. I love you too.” That’s been a constant in Jordan’s life since he was a kid, even if they don’t say it often. 

Taylor makes a face, but then he shakes his head. “Enjoy your date, Ebby,” he says, and then gives Ryan what looks like a defiant look before he leans down and kisses Jordan, soft and sweet and nothing like what they usually do–not a kiss that’s leading somewhere, just a kiss. 

“We’ll see you later,” Ryan adds. His hand trails over Jordan’s back, supportive and intimate. 

“Yeah,” Jordan agrees. Swallows again. “Later. 

* * *

Samantha is as gorgeous and fun as Jordan remembered her, and he really was lucky that she bought his date. But he can’t pay attention to anything she says, not when he can still feel Taylor’s lips lingering on his, Ryan’s body close to him tying his tie. 

None of which he should be thinking about, when he’s on a date in a candlelit restaurant with a lovely woman who he thinks he does have some chemistry with, even if she bought his time. It’s weird and a little awkward because of that, but she’s got that rich person charm and ease that sweeps it away, and it’s nice to talk with her. SHe’s smart and savvy and draws him out too, until he’s telling her stories about his life–about what it’s like as an NHLer, about growing up him and Taylor running wild, about how he spends his time now. 

“So Ryan and Taylor are…” she trails off, delicately, then takes a sip of wine. The wine somehow perfectly matches her lipstick. 

“They’re my best friends,” Jordan fills in, like he always does. Like is true. 

He thinks again of the way they’d invaded his life this past week. Of the flowers still on his kitchen counter. Of the way they’d looked as they left. That’s–is that best friend behavior? He can’t tell, with how the three of them are so mixed together. 

Samantha hums. “I see,” she says, like she doesn’t. “I thought they were going to talk you out of coming tonight, to be honest.” 

“Why would they do that?” Jordan asks. “I mean, you paid for it.” 

“You keep on making it sound like prostitution,” she retorts, wrinkling her nose, and Jordan chuckles. “Well, maybe I meant I thought they’d be coming too. After I looked you up a little, at least.” 

“I think only spouses get to do that,” Jordan points out. “Or maybe significant others? I’m not sure on the rules.” 

She pauses. “Yes, i think that’s usually the policy,” she agrees, slowly. Jordan blinks at her. 

“Oh, you mean–no. We aren’t.” He needs to be careful, if she thinks that. “They might be, I’m not sure, but I’m–not.” He’s not. They couldn’t, they aren’t–they didn’t bid on him. They sleep together, sure, but they don’t do–relationshippy things. 

Except…

“I’m not,” he repeats. He maybe sounds less convinced. 

She waits another beat, then is polite enough to let it go, and turn the conversation to travel plans. 

Jordan tries to engage for the rest of dinner. He really does. But he’s even more distracted now. They don’t do relationship things, but Taylor and Ryan have, for the past week. They’ve been romantic, or Jordan thinks they’ve been trying to be, at least. 

Or maybe it’s an accident, a spillover. Jordan’s not sure. Maybe Jordan’s reading things into it that he wants to see, even though he’s tried for so long to deny that he does. Maybe they’re being romantic at each other and he’s just getting caught in the wake. 

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know. He has to know. 

He kisses Samantha’s cheek goodbye when they’re done, and they promise to keep in touch. She runs a foundation he legitimately wants to know more about, to see if he can help in. She seems to get that, and his distraction; smiles at him a little condescendingly and then sends him on his way. 

Jordan doesn’t realize where he’s going until he pulls into the parking lot of Taylor’s building. By now, the doorman knows him, so he gets waved right up, which is good because he’s still sort of in a fugue state, which takes him right up until he lets himself into the apartment. 

“What–Jordan?” Taylor asks, pausing the movie on the TV. Ryan’s there too, both of them lit a little by the light of the TV. They’d definitely been cuddling; it’s easy to tell, even when Taylor’s straightened in surprise. “What are you doing here?” 

“We didn’t think you’d be back tonight,” Ryan adds. He’s straightened too, still tense. “What’s wrong?” he goes on. 

“Did she–” Taylor starts. Jordan shakes his head. 

“No, the date was fine.” 

“Fine,” Taylor echoes. “Fine like you’re going to see her again, or fine like meh?” Ryan’s just watching him with those cool, sharp eyes. 

“Fine like–what do you want from me?” Jordan asks, his voice embarassingly hoarse. “I couldn’t stop thinking about–you guys have been doing all these things that feel romantic, and I didn’t know–that’s not what we are, but Samantha thought we were, and–what are you doing?” he stops. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

Ryan and Taylor exchange a look. “Told you he wouldn’t figure it out,” Taylor tells Ryan, and gets up. “Ebby, you’re so stupid.” 

Jordan winces. “Fine, I’ll–” 

“Shut up, Hallsy,” Ryan snaps. He’s on his feet too, hovering a little. “He didn’t mean that. He meant that we have been trying to be romantic.” 

“To woo you,” Taylor adds. “To make you realize you shouldn’t be going on dates with other people. Just with us.” He pauses, then asks, pleading. “Do you want to?” 

Jordan blinks. Curls his hands into fists in his pockets, so he doesn’t flail. “You never said.” 

“We thought you knew.” Ryan, deceptively calm. “We thought you just didn’t want more. We didn’t realize you didn’t know, not until the charity auction.” 

“Because you’re so stupid, like I said.” Taylor rolls his eyes. “Ebs, we’ve known each other for decades, how couldn’t you know?” 

“I didn’t–I don’t even understand what you guys do,” Jordan tries to explain, and Taylor huffs out a breath. 

“So what?” 

“So, why would you–” 

“We do.” Ryan glances around. “Or at least, I do.” 

“Yeah, that’s another thing. You guys have your thing, and I didn’t want to–” 

“Our thing?” Ryan and Taylor give him identical confused looks, but it’s Taylor who speaks. “We don’t have a thing. Or like, not other than our thing.” He gestures at all three of them. 

Ryan is doing that thing where he looks at Jordan like he’s seeing through him. “The two of us only have our own thing when we talk about how much it sucks that you don’t want more with us,” he says, even but with something painful in his voice, like he’s remembering those conversations. Jordan’s–how could he not want more? “That’s all.” 

“Do you?” Taylor asks. He takes a step forward. “Do you want more? Because I think we’ve shown we can be pretty kickass boyfriends, way better than some woman you’ve never met, and–” 

“Yes,” Jordan cuts Taylor off, almost tripping over the words. “Yes, I mean, I do, I didn’t know but I do, we should–” 

Ryan’s kissing him before he finishes the sentence, and then when that’s done Taylor’s there, and all three of them are pressed together tightly enough Jordan can barely tell the difference between them anymore. 

Somehow, they all end up on Taylor’s bed, and Taylor rolls on top of Jordan as Ryan curves up next to him, pinning him in. 

“No more dates with other people,” Taylor orders, grinding down on Jordan just as emphasis. 

“Just with you,” Jordan agrees, grinning stupidly. 

“Next charity auction, we’re allowed to buy your date.” 

“No more charity auctions,” Ryan puts in. He’s stripped off his own shirt, and has moved on to Taylor's. 

“I like that idea,” Jordan agrees, and leans in to kiss his boyfriends. 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Want to talk about it? Comment or come chat on tumblr at [ fanforthefics!](http://fanforthefics.tumblr.com/)


End file.
